


Keeping Secrets

by false_alexis



Category: Playboy Club
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Closeted Character, F/F, Female-Centric, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/false_alexis/pseuds/false_alexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to make friends while keeping secrets, as Alice Beasley knows all too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semisweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semisweet/gifts).



> I cannot give enough thanks to Kastaka who worked so hard to beta this. Additionally, Curiouslyfic spent a wonderfully long time not only looking it over but talking me through the hotbed of issues, arguing for the most progressive, thoughtful approach possible! All errors remaining are my own, and any fails re: ~issues~ is entirely due to my stubbornness.
> 
> Additional content notes: No sex, minimal romance, and only a few curse words.

There’s a pleasant hum in the background. Silverware clinks, lightly, against china and glass as around them everyone else devotes themselves to their meals. They should, too; it’s a nice restaurant. She’s put on her green dress and the white pearls her mama gave her, spent the time to make sure her hair is as neat as it can be, and now she’s got sweet Sean across the table from her. It’s perfect. It could be perfect, if only she could appreciate it.

He smiles at her, a small smile, not the blinding grin that takes over his face. He raises a hand to signal for a waiter. His blue eyes track the man’s path across the room, back to their table.

“More water, please?” The words come out soft and gentle. The waiter glances down at her water goblet, sees it’s empty, gets someone to fill it. This place is nice, if a bit extravagant, the tables lining up in a row. They usually do diner lunches, or drive-in movies, with Sean’s arm draped over her shoulders lightly, letting her snuggle close to his chest and enjoy the warmth without pressing. Alice can’t imagine a more perfect gentleman.

The waiter nods to Sean, familiar, so maybe Sean’s got friends here and that’s why he’s here tonight. The singer is very earnest, and her backup girls are cute as can be, with long legs curving just right- oh, no, that won’t do at all, not tonight. So she smiles at Sean. “Thank you for bringing me here tonight. It’s really lovely.”

“Hmm,” he agrees. “Sorry about the band- I, uh, figured it wasn’t going to be Carol Channing, but they’re a bit screechy.” He ducks his head.

“Oh! Well, maybe a little, but they’re nice. The back-up girls are so pretty in their costumes, aren’t they?”

Sean looks at her dead on. “I didn’t notice. I’ve been watching you all night.”

Which just goes to show how little attention she’s been paying, because she didn’t notice that at all. “Oh, Sean.”

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he tells her, earnestly, and then the waiter is back, pressing a note discreetly into his hand. He glances down at it, then back up at her. “Excuse me.”

Sitting alone she can appreciate the way the girls move onstage. The warm light flatters everyone, making the backup girls look healthy, highlighting their vivacity. The blonde in the front row smiles in her direction and Alice can’t help but smile back. Then a tall man with ginger hair brushes past her chair, and of course, the girl was smiling at him. They don’t look related; maybe he’s a boyfriend. No matter. She really oughtn’t be doing that sort of thing tonight anyways.

It isn’t just the girls. It’s the atmosphere of the club, the way everyone seems to be having so much fun. Alice likes being a typist well enough, and her bosses always mean well, but it isn’t fun in the way this place is. Not that there’s anything wrong with being so serious! But at work the tone everyone takes is a little dour. _What would it be like to work here,_ she can’t help but wonder. Someplace with music and drinks and where everyone, staff and patrons alike, appear to be having fun. Making people happy just seems like a better way to spend your life.

Just as she starts to wonder where he’s got to Sean’s back and smiling. “Hey, honey,” he says, kissing her cheek before dropping back to his chair. The note is still crumpled in his palm, and he absently drops it to the table when he puts his napkin back in his lap.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, with a grin and a wink.

She smiles back. He’s wonderful when he’s playful. “Oh, of course I did. The minutes felt like hours. My heart was breaking,” she says, and it’s all in good fun. He laughs at her like it’s all a joke, and that’s the funny thing, it always seems like one big joke when they try to say ‘I love you.’

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” says an older woman sitting at the next table. She’s there with her husband, and Sean turns around in his chair to say something to them. While he’s engaged she reaches out and snatches the paper off the table and brings it down to her lap so she can read without looking. “And the best of luck to you both, dears,” says the woman, and Alice manages a bright smile for her.

 _Meet me outside in ten minutes_ , reads the note. _I have what you forgot._

She feels gutted, or like she’s had a hard fall and the wind has been knocked out of her. Sean? Involved in… something unmentionable. That was too vague a note to figure out what, but it could be gambling, could be the mob, even- maybe he works for them, she’s heard some men do, men who look perfectly respectable! Maybe Sean’s a smuggler. Maybe he has weapons on him. It’s scary but exciting. How could a man who is living on the edge like that be so mild-mannered in his daily manner, or even shy sometimes? How could he be such a perfect gentleman with her?

“Sean?” Her voice comes out a little breathy, and she urges her heartbeat to steady.

“Yes, honey?”

“Are you...” she bites her lip, lightly so as not to smear her makeup, and searches for the right phrase. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about?”

He stills, just for the briefest of moments, and his eyes get very wide. Then he smiles again, but it’s his small, tense, social smile. “What do you mean?”

“Just… anything.” She cocks her head, a picture of the perfect date, ready to listen to all his problems.

“I, uh, I tell you everything that you… I tell you what’s happening in my life all the time,” he says. He fusses a little with his napkin.

She swallows hard. All in all it is not a very promising reaction. “Sean,” she says gently, then slides the note across the table to him. He looks at it, swallows hard, and then he looks up and sees the way she’s read him so easily, knows now for sure that he’s hiding something. “What is this about?”

It’s odd; she would have expected to be hysterical right now but she feels calm. Like she’s floating above the tumult of all the things she could be feeling. Sean’s here, and he’s going to give her an answer, or he’s going to leave and they’ll be done.

He drums his hands on the table, and it’s a long minute that she can see him thinking, working over what he’s going to say. He glances up, past her, focuses on something across the room for a moment, but when she turns to see there doesn’t seem to be anything remarkable. Sean takes a deep breath, runs a hand lightly over his dinner jacket to smooth the pocket, and starts. “Alice… I, um, I- I have something for you. Something I was going to ask you, but, um, uh, that is, it got forgotten in my coat. Not because I didn’t care! But because, yeah, because I just got a little bit forgetful.”

She stares. He has never, in the ten months she’s known him, babbled before. Not once. He’s wonderfully careful with words, even when they’re teasing and joking with each other. Even when he was nervous about meeting her parents he was well-spoken. If anything, when he’s scared he’s stiffer, more careful, saying nothing that he would regret.

He’s still going, though. “Which is why- but I’ve been thinking this is too soon, I don’t want to, uh, to trap you into anything just yet. You should, um, get to know me better. We should get to know each other better. And not- it wouldn’t be right for me to- not if you don’t know all the details.” He reaches out, and holds her hand. “You understand, right?”

“Sean, I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh. Right.” Just as quickly he snatches his hand back. “Like I said, I wanted to tonight, but it just didn’t seem right.” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a small box of gray felt. He sets it on the table, looks at her expectantly, but she just shakes her head.

“What is it?” she asks.

He opens the box. The diamond in the ring is small, but it is a lovely design and cut. It manages to seem understated rather than insignificant.

“Oh,” she breathes. There has to be- to think that she’d- the guilt crashes over her. How could she think he was involved in crime? Sean, the idealist, the political mover and shaker, he’d never stoop so low, not willingly. “I am so sorry,” she says.

“Alice?” His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t marry you,” she blurts out. It isn’t at all what she had meant to say. But there it is, and as soon as the words have left her she knows they are true. She can’t be a good wife, she adores Sean but he deserves a woman who can love him properly. “I’m sorry, it isn’t- you’re such a perfect man, but you need… not me.”

He catches both her hands in his, now, holding them close. His fingers are cool, as always. It’s still nice, but not at all in the way it should be. “Alice. You are, quite literally, the only woman I could ever need.”

“No, I’m not,” she says unhappily. It’s horrible to tell him this, but he’s been so good to her, and clearly she’s too suspicious anyways- it wouldn’t work. “I- Sean, please, can you just… just keep a secret? Even though it’s terrible, and it’s probably going to be awful for you. If you think you can’t, I can just- we can just leave, now, and forget this ever happened.”

“No, Alice!” He squeezes her hands once. “You can always, always tell me. Whatever it is. No matter what I’ll always be here for you.”

“Right.” She leans in close across the table, trying to find a way to put it into words that he will understand, words that won’t make him storm off in disgust. “Sean, I’m- I love you, but I don’t think- I don’t think I could ever be- be all the things a wife should be. I’m not… I’m not quite right, I- I don’t enjoy the things… I mean, spending time with you has been so wonderful, because you’re such a wonderful person, you really are, but I’m not…”

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Hey. I promise, whatever it is, it’s alright. Just take your time, find the words, and say it as simply as you can.”

She looks into his eyes. His face is so close, they must look like the most romantic couple in the place, hunched over their dining table and talking passionately. It hurts to say the words. “Sean, I don’t think I can love a man like a woman is supposed to.”

“Oh.” He pulls back for a moment, face blank. He blinks for a moment, and leans in close again. “I had considered, you’ve always been so… congenial. I- Alice, do you…” he trailed off, then leaned close enough to whisper by her ear. “Do you love women instead?”

It’s a terrible thing to be discussing in so public a place. Alice pulls back, settles herself properly in her chair. There isn’t anything she can say, so she nods, trying to keep her expression steady and her breathing even.

“Shhh, honey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he says, still quiet like he’s right up next to her, but he’s less upset now than he was before. His voice has taken on a soothing tone like he’s trying to gentle a frightened animal. “You’re still the best woman I’ve ever known, I don’t mind, it’s fine.”

“How can it be ‘fine’?” she hisses. “It isn’t normal. They send people to the hospital for this! Forever!”

“That won’t happen to you,” he says, with certainty. “Alice… can you keep a secret for me?”

Of course she can. It’s a silly question and he knows it.

“Me too,” is all he says, and she knows perfectly well he’s not talking about being interested in women. “I thought maybe I could with you, because I really do like you, I feel almost as if I could make a home with you. But then when I got to think about you, was it fair to you, and it isn’t- wasn’t- wouldn’t have been-” he stops, catching himself, trying to figure out how to phrase it, and Alice can’t help but laugh at him.

“Well.” She sighs. It’s so much to take in, and she wants to laugh, to shout out loud, to throw her hands up, but she can’t afford to do more than sip at her water. “I guess we won’t be marrying anytime soon, then.” She smiles to herself. “And I suppose lurid affairs are slightly better than working for the mob.”

“You thought I was-” He gapes at her. She can’t help it, she starts laughing, and after a moment he starts laughing with her. The waiter grins at Sean quickly as he passes by their table, a perfectly normal reaction to Sean’s dimpled, infectious smile. They’re far too loud, and all around them people are turning to stare, but it doesn’t matter, because they’re safe together, here and now. They’ve got their own little world where they can be who they are and no one can say a word against them, because no one need ever know.

It’s later that night, as he’s walking her to her door, that he turns the conversation back to their futures. “Maybe we should,” he says, and she knows that he’s not talking about going into the house, or the lunch they have planned for that Saturday. “You’re the best friend I ever had. If we worked together, made our families happy, then we could spend all our energy on the real things.”

“Seriously?” She turns to him. “Are you sure you’d want to do that? Because if we do anything like that, we’re stuck with it, with each other, for good.”

“I know.” He shifts in place. “But we could do so much.You know there are clubs now? Not here, not in Chicago, but in California men are forming societies for advancement and women are getting together just to be themselves, just for a little while. It’s amazing, there’s a new wind in the air. Alice, we could change the world, you and me.” He leans in, kisses her lightly on the cheek. “Think about it.”

 

* * *

 

“Thanks!” says Maureen. Her lips are painted ruby, and look so velvety. It’s all Alice can do not to reach out and touch. Maureen leans close, conspiratorially. “You know, those photos you took of me- they were really good. I looked at them some more. Did you look at them?”

Alice swallows hard. There’s something intimate about being in the mansion where the girls live and party. Living with Sean is isolating, sometimes, but she’s got the joy of privacy and sharing her life with her best friend. And maybe, just maybe, it would be a little harder to keep secrets if she lived so close to girls like this. “Yes, I did, you look very- alluring,” she says, hoping that’s enough truth to get her out of this.

Maureen smiles at her. This close her hair falls down, loose and untamed, brushing lightly over Alice’s shoulder to touch her neck. Alice has to suppress a shiver. “You think you could help me do some more?” She grins. “I want to show them to some modeling agents, but I thought I should have something besides just the Bunny look. Maybe in a dress, maybe some negligee, what do you think?”

“I think that’s a marvelous idea. I’m sure they’d like you,” she says, because really- who doesn’t think that Maureen is one of the prettiest women they’ve ever seen? And the sexiest. “Maybe we can do it during the day some time?” Sunlight made everything feel more legitimate.

“Of course!” She sat back, leaning up against the wall, lounging on her bed, elegant. “You’re sure your husband won’t mind, though?”

“My-“ Alice blinks, remembers the story she told about Sean and his disapproval of her photographs. He’s good like that, doesn’t mind being seen as her keeper, and she finds it helps more than it hurts. “Oh, no, he just thinks it’s inappropriate for married women to model like that- all sexy. And his family, you know, they would be so angry with me if they ever saw me posing for Playboy.”

“So why does he let you work here?” Brenda leans against the doorframe, dressed in green frock, completely at ease. Alice wonders for a moment how long she’s been standing there, and then banishes the thought- this is Brenda’s room after all. Alice is the guest here. “I mean, you had to lie when his parents came to town.”

“We-“ It’s hard to tell this story. It makes Sean seem weak, but it has a little bit of truth to it, so she works it as best she can, lets people draw their own conclusions. “We need the money. We’re putting it… Sean sometimes has to go without work for a while. I just want to be sure we have something set aside for what we really care about.”

Brenda looks at her belly and smirks, but it’s friendly, teasing, an inside joke. “For when you can’t fit into a bunny costume anymore, huh?” She shakes her head. “Man, if I had a man I was as devoted to as you are to that fella, I’d already have a bun in the oven.”

Alice feels her face heat, realizes that she must be going red all over. This isn’t appropriate conversation, and she almost says so, but it’s Brenda- Brenda is far too real to ever be appropriate. “I, ah, I’d better- call- someone,” she says. She jumps off the edge of the bed, almost trips over a stray shoe on her way to the door.

A hand comes up to catch her. “Easy, sugar, easy. I’m just teasing you. You do what you want to when you want to, right?”

Alice manages a grateful nod, and tries to relax. From the next room comes a shout, it sounds like Janey: “Maureen! Phone!”

Maureen’s up and brushing past her before she even realizes what’s going on. Brenda sighs, plops down on her own bed without any pretense of being graceful. “Damn, it’s probably that Dalton again. Girl’s setting herself up for a world of heartache.”

“You think so?” Says Alice. Of course. Dalton and Maureen, but Maureen had sworn they were just friendly, that Nick had just helped her out in a tough situation. She wouldn’t go into detail about what it was, though. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Girl, you and I are just friends. You don’t call me on the phone every day, you don’t sneak off into the alley or the storeroom with me, and we don’t have clandestine meetings outside of work.” Brenda snorts. “She spends as much time on the phone with him as you do with that man of yours.”

“Oh,” Alice breathes.

Of course, Maureen is a perfectly normal heterosexual. She likes Alice, so she’s very nice to Alice, and she doesn’t mind asking her for favors. Why not? They’re friends. It’s just that Brenda’s probably right, Nick Dalton probably is some sort of heartbreaker.

“You think he’s going to hurt her?” she asks Brenda, instead of a thousand other questions that would cause serious trouble.

Brenda shakes her head, motions Alice to take a seat again. She does, perching on the edge of Maureen’s bed, but doesn’t let herself relax and sink in this time. She’s a visitor, she has to remember, she has no claim on anyone in this house. “I think Carol-Lynne is going to hurt her,” Brenda says, finally. “That woman has a jealous streak. Maureen is playing with fire, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Oh, but she wouldn’t-“

“Honey.” Brenda’s tone is wry. “People will do all sorts of things if you threaten or scare them enough. Now, most of the folks here are good enough to wait until it’s personal, they don’t worry about appearances too much.” She nods once, a hint of a smile on her face. “It’s why I like it here. But Carol-Lynne got where she is by not letting anyone make a fool of her, and she’s not gonna start now.”

Alice opens her mouth to speak, then stops. What can she say to that? Carol-Lynne is so brilliant even Maureen has noticed her first thing, admires her now. That’s what first got Alice to wondering about her, really, the way she always tracks when the older woman walked by, the way she so clearly _wants_ something from her.

Brenda isn’t done. “You, look at you. You’re the nicest girl in the club. Sometimes I think you’re the nicest girl in the whole damn world. No one uses it to hurt you. Which, don’t worry, honey, if they did we’d all have your back.” She grins again, and this time it’s a little bit sharper. “But you’ve got a great husband, and a perfect life, and all of this is pretty damn temporary for you. You’re exactly what the world wants out of a woman. The rest of us have to fight a little more,” she says.

And that’s- Alice wants to reach out, to admit to Brenda that she’s not so perfect, that world would try to remake her if they only knew. But she looks at Brenda, at the way she shrugs slightly under her dress sleeves, holding her arms in close, and it doesn’t seem right. She can hide. She has to hide, no matter what, no matter how tiring it gets she can never stop, but Brenda can’t hide at all. It isn’t fair. She says so, softly, and Brenda nods. “You’re a good friend,” Alice adds, because it’s true, and people as smart and well-intentioned as Brenda shouldn’t have to struggle like this.

“Thanks. But I don’t want to get through this life as just a friend. I want to be my own person, too,” says Brenda. She doesn’t seem mad about it, at least.

“Oh, well, but you are. You always say what you think.” Alice stops, considering. There’s more to Brenda than that; she’s honest in a way not many people are. “And you don’t ask for much, but you’re very clear when something is wrong. You’re brave, too, going after anything you want like that. Remember the cover photos the other week? You were so good to everyone about it, but we all knew how much you wanted to be on the cover.”

Brenda smiles, and glances down at her lap. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Brenda… you’re someone I look up to a lot.”

“Thank you,” she says, and this time it seems more open, more honest. “You know, you’re… if you ever need to talk about anything, you can always find me, right?”

Maureen’s laughter carries from the next room. The sound bounces a little in the great house; most of the girls are out today, and the emptiness seems to emphasize the few who remain in. Her laughter is beautiful. Alice swallows for a second, tempted to tell Brenda, if not the whole truth, then part- how much she admires Maureen, wants to be close to her, wants to see her happy and safe and cared for. Brenda would understand. Brenda wants Maureen to be happy, too, they’re roommates and friends. But it isn’t her secret alone to tell. It’s Sean’s, it’s the secret of the burgeoning Mattachine Society- and a part of her is still overjoyed every time she remembers that there is a homophile group here, in her own city- and maybe even Frances’s secret, too. She can’t run the risk of anyone figuring her out; she’s covering for too many other people. Her friends here are wonderful. They’ll do their best by her no matter how much they know.

Instead, she says “I’m a little worried about Maureen.”

“Yeah, honey,” says Brenda. “Me too.”

There’s a hint of disappointment in her voice. It makes Alice wonder.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Sean, honey, wait a minute,” Alice calls. He turns around and smiles at her, patient. He’s not a bad sort of man to be in this situation with, he’s kind, he’s goodnatured, he’s really a sweetheart, and his idealism lifts up everyone around him. “Are you sure about this?”

He walks back to her, and folds both her hands in his. The Chicago wind whips her coat open, her skirt blowing around her wildly for a moment. Sean looks in her eyes. “Of course I’m sure. It’s what’s best for everyone.”

“But- I just worry about Carol-Lynne. She’s so attached to Nick Dalton, is all.” Alice leans her head in close. Marriage is helpful. Being married lets them talk as closely as they want, and as long as they smile at each other the world can take it as a sign of their eternal devotion. “And Frances isn’t really a part of that sort of thing, usually.”

Sean shakes his head. A passer-by jostles him a little, pushes them closer together. “We need some sort of story if she’s going to be hanging around. It gets her in where she wants to be and gives her a good picture for the people who need to see it. Best possible situation for everyone. Besides, she’s a smart girl.” He grins at her. “I think you noticed that.”

“Oh!” Alice knows her cheeks are reddening, and it isn’t just from the chill. “I just think Carol-Lynne can get a little mean when her feelings are hurt. She doesn’t mean harm, but it can be bad if you aren’t expecting it.”

“I’ll warn her, I promise,” says Sean, and then she’s off to work and he’s off again, to organize some meetings for the campaign that he’s going to run, given enough time to work. He is so good at it, and so committed- she’d follow him anywhere, just because of his true spirit.

-

It will take her less than three months to start to regret that sentiment.

-

“Sean,” she says, as gently as she can. It’s a good lead-in, calling him by his name, the name that was his grandfather’s. He loves his family, which can be a problem, but times like now it’s a blessing. They’re driving home, windshield wipers going steady and fast, beating away at the cold rain, darkness hiding most everything in the night. “Sean, I think things might be getting out of hand.”

“What things?” He asks. He’s probably distracted. He looks distracted, chewing on his lower lip like a little boy. “The campaign is going really well.”

“And that’s great!” Alice smiles as best she can. She gets caught up in her own life, sometimes, forgets that Sean’s working so hard on so many fronts. “Really great. But, I’m thinking- Carol-Lynne, she’s gotten a little strict…” she trails off, as Sean looks over at her, eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

“She’s gotten a tiny bit angry lately. She’s- starting to take it out on Frances. I’m worried.” Alice doesn’t like to worry about these things, but sometimes she has to. Frances is her… something, she doesn’t quite know yet, they’ve spent time together but she’s thrown herself into Burton’s campaign so thoroughly sometimes Alice feels like her entire life revolves around the darn thing. And she’s not even working on it! But every other sentence out of Frances’s mouth seems to center on what will happen, or needs to happen, or could happen for Nick Dalton’s future.

It _is_ important. Alice knows that. It’s just that the rest of the world hasn’t gone away, either.

“Alice, I think you’re taking her a little too seriously,” Sean tells her kindly. He keeps his eyes on the road, mostly, but he keeps sneaking glances, trying to gauge her reaction. “She’s not going to take down Frances. Frances isn’t even the one she’s angry at.”

“But everyone expects her to be! She’s just… things have gotten tense. I was talking with Maureen about it, and Brenda, and they say-“

“Oh?” Sean perks up considerably. “You talked with Maureen about Frances?”

“Well, no.” She takes a deep breath, reminding herself to think before she speaks. “But we were talking about Nick.”

“And?”

“And she knows him pretty well, Sean!” Alice is surprised at the vehemence in her own voice. “And I’m saying, Maureen and I do what we can to keep Carol-Lynne’s anger away from Frances, but I think she gets terribly mad, and sooner or later it is going to come around and we’re all going to be sorry.”

Sean sighs. His breath tints the window. During their conversation- it isn’t a fight, Alice would swear it isn’t a fight, she doesn’t fight with her husband because they’re not married like that- the cold rain has turned into slushy snow. The gift of Chicago in December. “I think you’re making something out of nothing, Alice,” he says. “Can we at least put it aside until after Christmas?”

She sighs, too, but he’s got a point. Alice loves the season so much, the gifts and the celebration, the way people come together for each other. She loves the traditions and the sweet drinks, hot chocolate and egg nog, and she can’t help but love the music. It’s like people band together to make magic this time of year. She’d said as much to Frances, who chuckled, admitting she’d never thought of it that way. So, yes, she reaches into herself and finds the peace to put aside her worries- Carol-Lynne’s cruel taunt about Frances when Alice and Maureen walked into the dressing room earlier- and just accept the season.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get away from your folks at all this year?” She says, looking for a change of pace. “I mean, it would be… good to see them, but I’d really love to spend some time with Frances, too.”

Sean pulls the car into their driveway, a little thing outside a house that’s not quite as well kept as it should be. Alice promises herself she’ll work on it, come spring. Just after things calm down somewhat. He turns the engine off, and they sit in silence for a moment. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Alice. I think she’s taking Nick out of town, with her father, for the day.”

Alice feels the tears well up, but she pushes them back.

 

* * *

 

“Listen to me!” Frances draws her back into a corner with shelves filled with jars of cherries and olive oil on one side and office paper and receipt pads on the other. “Listen to me, Alice, I’m so sorry- but this has to stop.”

“What?” says Alice. Frances looks so wonderful when she’s like this, fierce and filled with rage. It’s the way a lioness looks right before she catches her prey, Alice is sure, so wild and powerful. There’s nothing like it. Alice could follow a woman like that to the ends of the earth. If bearing the brunt of it is a little difficult, well, Frances can’t help that she’s so forceful in person. “What did I do?”

“Maureen. You need to stop- following her around, doing whatever you’re doing. It’s obvious, everyone can see it, and I can’t be seen with someone who-“ She breaks off, tries again, more gently. Her hair is up in a loose style and it shines so bright under the electric lights. “Look, maybe I’m not being fair. But life isn’t fair, is it, sweetheart?”

Her hand comes up, gently tracing over Alice’s bare shoulder, gliding up her neck to trace the line of her cheekbone. Alice shudders under the touch. It’s- she feels pretty, in this costume, knows the purple satin sets off her hair nicely. But like this, with Frances looking at her like she’s good enough to eat, it’s the only time she ever feels sexy. It’s heady. She could get drunk on this feeling. “Frances…” she murmurs into her palm.

“If it was fair, I’d be kissing you all night and to hell with the consequences,” says Frances. Her other arm comes up, around Alice. “But I can’t. Because it isn’t.”

Alice blinks back her tears as hard as she can. Crying doesn’t help. Besides, it will make her makeup run, and she’s back on soon. She’d rather spend that time with Frances than fixing her makeup. “I know.”

“Life’s not fair, and maybe- maybe we should not be doing this right now.”

It’s a long moment of breathing each other’s air, feeling nothing but closeness before Alice hears her. “What?”

“Maybe we- maybe we shouldn’t right now.” Frances looks so sad. Her green eyes- well, they’re enough to knock Alice off her feet all over again. It isn’t fair, her looking so lovely right now. There’s that word again: Fair. “Maybe our timing is all wrong. This has been amazing time for me. You’re a lovely girl, Alice, but I can’t- there are other things I want out of life. We both do, so let’s just… stop before we get any farther, okay?”

Alice can’t bring herself to argue. She can’t even bring herself to nod. The tears are falling now, in earnest, and her mascara is probably all down her face. Frances doesn’t seem to mind, just nods once, and then steps back, her hand slowly falling away from Alice’s face. All she can do is stand there while Frances walks away, leaves the storeroom, leaves her.

-

Time passes.

-

“Alice? Honey, are you in here?” It’s Brenda. _She’s probably never been left by someone she loves in a storeroom,_ thinks Alice. _She’s too good for that, too clever._ “Are you okay?”

She looks really concerned. Her skin is really pretty, and Alice wishes she had an excuse to look for longer, more carefully, but she doesn’t want to make Brenda uncomfortable. Brenda’s so good to everyone. She doesn’t have to be, she has to fight to be here, sometimes, though she tries not to show it, but she’s nice anyways. That’s nice.

It’s possible Alice is babbling in her own mind.

“Alice, what happened? You look like you’ve been crying.” Brenda peers at her. “You have been crying. Come on, honey, let’s go get your face all washed up. You can’t go out looking like that,” she says.

Alice lets herself be led back to the dressing room. “We were all so worried,” Brenda says, “is everyone okay? Do you want to say what happened?” Alice nods yes or no, whatever the question seems to call for. Brenda stops pressing her for answers, just makes soothing noises and rubs her back. Brenda pushes her down into a chair. It’s across from a mirror, and Alice can see the mess of black and green the tears have left on her face. Brenda must have gotten a wet cloth from somewhere, because she’s washing Alice’s makeup off. “It’s better to just start over sometimes,” she says softly.

She might just be talking about the makeup.

Brenda puts the basics on her, quickly, and Alice does her best to hold still. It’s nice that Brenda wants to take care of her, nice, nice, nice. The shadow over her lids goes on gently, and the cream under her eyes to hide the darkness from too many long nights spent up, with the Mattachine Society, planning with Sean, with Frances. There were a lot of long nights with Frances. Sweet nights, she’d thought, warm and comforting. Loving and loved nights.

“Alice!” Brenda shakes her shoulder. “Come on, honey, you gotta do this for yourself.” She presses a tube of lipstick into Alice’s hand. Alice stares at it a moment before remembering what it’s for.

She applies it carefully. This isn’t time to- she can’t- no. She has a lifetime of faking it behind her, years of experience lying about her problems, this is no different. She puts on her best smile, ignoring how brittle it feels and the false way it stretches her lips. When she lets Brenda walk her back out to the floor, she’s pretending normalcy well enough that no one comments. It keeps her steady, keeps from falling into shock. She’s not processing. Her mind is running on two levels. One makes small talk and smiles, perhaps a little bit off-rhythm in her patter but good enough. The other level replays the conversation in her head, tries to figure out where she went wrong, why she wasn’t good enough.

Her shift crawls by, but at the end she can’t recall a single thing she did or said, whose coats she took or when they came or went. Sean must have found a parking spot, because he’s standing in the hallway, talking close with Brenda. She watches them for a minute before she remembers that she should go over, say hello. To her husband.

He drops a quick kiss on her cheek. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi.”

“Are you ready to go?”

She nods, trying her best to keep up the normal act, but it’s harder now with Sean so near. He puts a gentle arm around her waist. “Thank you, Brenda,” he says, “for keeping an eye on her.”

“You take care of our girl,” directs Brenda. She darts in to give Alice a hug, her face still worried.” And you take care of yourself, you hear, honey? Just call if there’s anything we can do.”

Sean escorts her to the car, opens the door for her. He’s always polite, but his gentlemanly side comes out most when they’re alone like this, when he’s truly focused on her. It’s not always helpful to their act but it’s so wonderfully sincere. Sean’s a very sincere person. Apparently, not everyone is.

Maybe Frances isn’t. Wasn’t. Isn’t, she’s not dead, in fact Alice will probably see her around the club- at the Mattachine- maybe as soon as the next day-

“Oh.” The sound escapes her, a breath gone not to be retracted. Sean looks over sharply.

“Honey, what happened?” That’s nice. He never calls her honey unless he’s really worried about her. He licks his lips, his hands tighten around the steering wheel, as if he were bracing for an impact. “Did someone die?”

Alice blinks. “No. That’s exactly what didn’t happen.” Well, maybe she is still babbling in her own mind. “I- Frances came by, broke it off.”

“Oh, my god, Alice.” His shoulders droop a little. “That’s terrible. Wait, she did it while you were at work?”

“Yes.”

He makes a small noise, maybe a protest, but then he presses his lips tight, like he does when he’s afraid of saying something unfortunate to her father.

They sit in silence the rest of the short way home. Sean keeps a hand on her at all times after she gets out of the car, walking her in the door with fingers lightly pressed into her shoulder. It’s soothing. It helps her focus. He sits her down on the couch, wraps the light throw over her shoulders, and kisses her forehead before heading into the kitchen. He comes out a minute later with a mug of hot tea.

"Here," he says. She looks at it, and he reaches out, takes her hands and presses them around the mug. "For you. Drink this." She sips, and it's pleasantly sweet and warm, with a deep bite. Alcohol. He put whisky or something in it; maybe the brandy they keep on hand. He settles on the couch beside her.

"Tell me about it," he says so softly she can barely hear him. Alice looks over, wonders how he's able to just ask her that, but this is Sean, Sean who loves her no matter what, the one person she can always tell her fears and horrors to.

She starts to speak, quietly. "She's so wonderful, of course she can do better," says Alice, and also "She needs to be free of complications" and "It was terribly indiscreet" and "I miss her" and "Oh, God, was she right? Was I flirting with Maureen?" and "What happens when I see her at the Mattachine Society?"

Sean lets her ramble. He pulls her close, as the evening wears on, arms around her gentle but comforting. He strokes her hair, murmurs a gentle "No, no" as she says things that sound hollow even to her own ears and "You're wonderful too," and "She was lucky to have you," and other nonsense but he doesn't interrupt her, doesn't try to contradict her. When she realizes she's crying again he pulls out a handkerchief and wipes at her tears, gentle as Brenda had been but infinitely more tender. "Hey, shhh, it will be alright," he says, but it doesn't sound like an order, just a prediction of the inevitable.

After she runs out of fears and tears, when her sorrow has settled from an all-consuming monster to a simple grief, he holds her. She sits up, finally, after it's been too long cuddling, more dependence than she would want to show. She hates to be a burden.

Sean starts to speak. "I'm so sorry," he starts with. "Not just for you, but for- I think getting her involved with Nick Dalton had... unexpected consequences. It's harder to keep up a charade in the spotlight like that."

"I suppose," agrees Alice.

"And it may have been the right thing politically, but honey, you know I never meant for you to become collateral damage." He puts a hand against her cheek. "So I'm sorry."

"You saw her first," says Alice, and if it comes out a little wry she's probably earned it.

Sean grins at her. "Right, of course." He looks down. “She shouldn’t have done that at your work. I’m- that was uncalled for.”

Alice considers this. She doesn’t like the way it feels in her mind when she turns it over, inspects it, but it doesn’t sound untrue. “Maybe,” she admits.

“Really. She shouldn’t have done it at all- you’re a prize, you know that? And you’re truer than anyone on earth. I mean, Maureen’s pretty and we all need a little distraction every now and then. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Sean’s voice is soft, his words more of a patter of sound than any real heat of feeling. It feels good, to have someone say the things she needs to hear. “You’re a nice person, you really are, and you treated her so well. You always make time for her.”

Alice nods, feeling her muscles unclench when she hadn’t even realized she’s been tense. She leans into Sean’s warmth, the soft stroking along her back, and lets her eyes drift closed, as he keeps talking. The conversation shifts. “I do have to work tomorrow but I can take a long lunch. Let’s go out to a drive-in outside the city, hang out where the teenagers go. We can listen to their terrible music and see all the cars. No more responsible grown-ups for us, no people dressed up in suits, no jobs, just us for an afternoon. Maybe we can go to the lake this Sunday. It’s a cold spring, so I bet not to many people will be there, we can bundle up…” she lets it fade away into the background, the sound of the plans he makes for them, the way it eventually drifts in her mind into the sound of high school students laughing in each other’s cars and the sound of gentle waves lapping against the coast of the lake.

“It’ll get better,” Sean tells her, later, as he wakes her up to put her to bed. “It’ll stop hurting.”

She considers hoping that that’s true. Maybe it can get better. Maybe not. She holds it in her head, opens the door in her own mind the possibility, and waits.

 

* * *

 

Carol-Lynne touches her shoulder. “Alice, do you have a minute?” she says.

“Yes, of course,” agrees Alice.

It’s not exactly an office, what Carol-Lynne has upstairs; it’s more like a sitting room. The couches are comfortable, and the coffee table lends itself better to chats than board-meetings. Nevertheless, the small desk in the corner of the room and the filing cabinet hidden under a spider-plant contain some of the most important documents in the Playboy Club. Carol-Lynne has grown into her position, taking power stealthily, disguising herself as just the singer who watches over the girl while she accumulates influence over everyone who has any connection with the club. Alice wouldn’t have seen it, but Sean has, as he grows more entangled in Nick Dalton’s affairs. It’s been hard, sometimes, seeing the world the way he does, which more and more means the way Dalton does.

“Have a seat,” suggest Carol-Lynne, very gently. Alice does so, on a firm wooden chair; she wouldn’t have been called up here to socialize.

Carol-Lynne takes an armchair that places her slightly higher than Alice. “Alice, I’m afraid there are some changes coming to the Playboy Club.” Alice nods, but doesn’t say anything. “And I’m afraid some of them may concern you. We’re… under some stress, right now, do you understand? The world is changing very fast, and while the club wants to embrace that change, we also want to provide a safe haven from the havoc of the world.” She gestures at the room, as the careful expense that has gone into it. “We like our patrons to feel… comfortable, as well as happy, and we do like to keep the political entanglements to a minimum.”

“But you have Nick Dalton here every evening,” she protests.

Carol-Lynne raises a single eyebrow. Something in Alice deflates, and she looks down at her hands. “Mr. Dalton,” pronounces Carol-Lynne, very carefully, “was council for the Club for years, and therefore not someone we ought disrespect. He is an influential man. He also does his best to avoid political problems in any situation. Do you understand?”

It’s coming clearer, in her mind. Alice freezes, feels the light smile she wears always slowly slipping off her face, fading away into consternation. “Yes,” she says, but it comes out a squeaky whisper. “Yes,” she says more solidly.

“Then perhaps you should consider,” Carol-Lynne offers gently, “what your next move should be. You’re an excellent bunny, my dear. You’d do very well as a waitress at any fine club, and I could write you a recommendation. Of course, it may be time for your and your young husband to start on your own family,” and there’s no missing the steel edge in her tone. “Being a family man would only improve his standing.”

Alice nods. “Thank you, ma’am.”

-

Brenda catches her eye when she comes downstairs, and winks. They’re two of the longest lasting bunnies in the house these days; too many of the other girls have gone off to be married or to travel to New York, start a career in show business, or have just moved on to slightly less exposed positions. All the bunnies turn to them, and they take turns answering questions and soothing worried hearts and bruised egos. One of the newest girls who has only just finished her training has a question about the gentleman at the table in the corner, and Alice trades off the coatroom so she can cover the rest of the girl’s shift, and the difficult, slightly drunk, definitely handsy elderly man with it.

“No, sir, we don’t,” she says with a smile, in answer to his third impossible question. “But I can check with the bar and see which scotches might be similar, alright?”

Brenda catches her on her way over. “Hey, so did you hear what Hef said?”

“About what?”

“About the magazine! He’s featuring the Chicago club- again!” She’s almost vibrating, her smile not the slightest bit fake. “Not the cover, or anything, but they want at least one girl who’s been here more than two years, and one of the new girls, and I figured you’re not going to do it-“ she shrugs, raises an eyebrow. Alice shakes her head; she still has no interest in being that public. “So I’ve got a good shot! And I’ve already got some good snaps from last year. Carol-Lynne told me she thought I could really be good for the article, you know- exciting.” Brenda holds her chin high and proud.

Alice has to give it to her; Brenda’s been waiting for something like this, and she’s not letting it slip by. “Great!” she says, because it is. “I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.” She cocks her head attentively, letting the bustle of guests coming and going swirl around her.

“I know! I mean, I don’t have it yet- but I could. Carol-Lynne’s gonna help me get it if it’s possible, she doesn’t… you know, she doesn’t want me to have to stay out of it ‘cause I’m the first chocolate bunny, or anything.” She’s not the only one, but Megan and Joanie are both young, new, and Joanie’s a little bit irritable.

It takes her a little while to put the pieces together. She’s carrying a tray of martinis when it hits her: If the magazine is going to feature the club, then there’s going to be national attention. The Chicago papers could care less about the individual bunnies, but sometimes the society section mentions who was seen there, and with whom- putting all that together could be a little awkward.

Rumors about her would be terrible.

Rumors about Sean could bring them both down, forever.

The thought stops her in her tracks, almost makes her bump into Ida. A few drops slosh up and over the side of one glass. She apologizes, and apologizes again when she’s back to the grumpy man’s table without remembering to ask the bartender about the scotch, but she can’t even be bothered. She’ll have to make sure she can get out of the limelight, fast.

The hand on the small of her back makes her jump. “Hey,” says Billy. “Walk with me, bunny…” he missed a beat before her name- “Alice.”

“Yes, sir?” She says. If the manager says to leave her tables surely she can for a minute.

He nods to her. “Look, you used to be friendly with Frances Dunhill, right?” he asks, nasal voice hushed.

“Oh! Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“There’s some people- and I’m not saying we’re answerable to anyone here, but Chicago is a certain kind of town- who would like a bit of information about her. Just, you know, anything you can recall.” He smiles, but his face just isn’t made for the expression.

She’d have more sympathy his stiffness if it weren’t for the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the faint rush of blood in her ears. “Why do they want to know? Is this about Mr. Dunhill?” she counters.

“Nothing sinister, I promise.” He pats her on the shoulder. “Just curiosity’s sake. Let’s say an interested gentleman.”

“Oh,” says Alice. “I see.” She licks her lips, tries for the most innocuous things she can remember. They’ve grown… polite, for lack of a better word, but it’s terribly hard to pretend that this isn’t the woman she cried over. And besides, if he’s really, truly just asking on behalf of a friend who’d like to ask Frances out, then this could be good for everyone. “Well, she likes irises,” she says, cautiously. “And she enjoys a good baseball game. And she’s very clever, she knows so much about politics.” She bites her lip. Was that indiscreet? “She’s… a realist, with ideals.”

“But-“ Billy shakes his head, frustrated and perhaps a little trapped. “Anything else? That might be… useful?”

Alice shrugs daintily. “Sorry, it’s been too long since we spent time together,” she says.

He frowns. “Did you two have a fight?”

“No! Not- not anything that… we didn’t,” she says, because anything she says now will make it harder for Frances to keep her secrets later.

He lets her go back to the floor, disappointed but unable to trap her into saying anything else, for the moment.

-

Sean’s understanding, but clear. “It isn’t your fault, but we have to do some damage control,” he tells her, and she nods. It could have been any of their acquaintances through the Mattachine Society, like the men Sean has tried to be involved with or the people they’re just friendly with. But if Billy keeps digging, he’ll figure out Frances, and Alice won’t be far behind, and if they catch Alice she’ll have to leave town to cover for Sean, and he’ll be left to deal with an unbearable amount of public embarrassment.

-

“Thanks, Brenda,” she says, taking her ears off back in the dressing room. “You need help getting out of yours?”

“No, I got it,” says Brenda instead. They get dressed together, and Brenda is an observant girl, so she raises her eyebrows at the very careful way Alice hangs up her costume. “You got something going on?” she asks, but not too loudly. “You’re acting a little nervous tonight.”

Carol-Lynne had made the announcement that evening, as everyone was getting dressed for the dinner shift, saying that they would be interviewing a few bunnies and that anyone who was interested should speak to her. Alice had stayed back, not bothering to protest that she couldn’t do it. There was no point. Brenda had worn the oddest expression, her lips curving very gently and an extra pop in her step the entire evening, as if she had just been given a very private present.

“Oh, well,” Alice prevaricates. There are a few other girls, finishing up and heading back. “Here.” She takes Brenda’s elbow and guides her around to the far side of the room, as far from the door as possible.

“Come on, spill,” says Brenda. “I know you got something going on.”

They settle on chairs, heads leaned in close. “I think this was my last day,” says Alice, the words feeling odd on her tongue. “I told Carol-Lynne I could do another shift this week if she was having trouble covering it, but she said probably not.”

“What?” Brenda yells. Alice raises her hand to make frantic shushing motions. “What?” Brenda whispers. “You’re leaving? And you didn’t tell us?”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss,” says Alice, quietly. “I just thought it would be easier.”

“Did something happen?” asks Brenda.

Alice looks down, and then looks up again. “Not exactly. I think it’s just… time to move on,” she says.

“Are you pregnant?”

“Of course not!” snaps Alice. “I mean-“ she swallows hard against her words. Sometimes it gets tiring, keeping track of who knows which particular secrets of her life. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, honey, I think I got that,” says Brenda, dry as dust. “So what’s really going on? We’re gonna miss you. Are you moving? Don’t move away, I’m gonna miss you.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be working in town!” she says, hastily. “And you tell everyone that… that I’m looking forward to seeing them again. I’ll visit.” The words come out twisted, her interest sounding forced. She does care about them, cares so much, some of her best friends are here, but she can’t be in the middle of everything that’s happening at the club.

Brenda shakes her head, pulling away. “Nuh-uh, honey, if we’re friends at all- which I thought we were, I thought we been there for each other enough for that- then you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

“Alice.” Alice spins around to see as Brenda looks up at Carol-Lynne, standing behind Alice’s chair. “Is there anything else you we can do for you?”

“Oh, thank you,” says Alice. “You’ve already done so much.”

“She’s leaving.” Brenda looks at Carol-Lynne, seemingly unimpressed. “Your idea? Why do you gotta drive off the girls who have been here too long? Am I next to go?” Brenda stands up, but it doesn’t help; Carol-Lynne looms over her anyways. Alice rises to catch her hand, try to calm her down, remind her that this woman is still Brenda’s superior, even if Alice doesn’t work for her anymore.

Carol-Lynne looks sad. It’s rather foreign to her. “Brenda. I’ve done all I can do here. You’re going to be in the magazine, and Hugh is going to fight for you, even though it could cost him. He’ll do it, but you have to let everything play out. There are plenty of people looking for trouble with the club. There always will be.” She pauses, a slight twitch around her mouth as if the wrong words want to escape. “I can’t keep all of you safe all the time. Sometimes all I can do is get you out of the way.”

“Why her?” asks Brenda. “Why not me? I’m more obvious- Alice is the sweetest, friendliest girl on earth. She’s married. Her husband’s successful She’s never been in trouble here. I’m too outspoken, I’m single, and what people don’t like about me working here’s awful hard to hide.”

“Brenda, don’t,” says Alice. She’s never regretted keeping secrets more, because she knows that Brenda is fighting blindly, thinks she knows her but is wrong. “It isn’t- I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” says Brenda.

Alice gasps; Brenda’s tough, but she’s never heard her curse like that. Carol-Lynne is the one to call her on it. “Watch your mouth, there are still guests here.” Brenda’s shoulders droop, just a little. “Sometimes we don’t associate with the people we should,” she says, glancing at Alice, “and we have to get out of their line of fire, or we get take down with them.” She turns away, calling out for Pearl, as if the conversation had never happened.

They stand there for a minute. Alice isn’t sure what to say, it seems like a terrible note to walk away on, and she really does want to reassure Brenda that this is all okay. But Carol-Lynne’s comments seem to hang around them, snuffing out all the air, leaving them with little room to breathe.

She’s not really expecting Brenda to pull her into a hug. “Hey.” Her voice is low and husky, like she’s holding back tears, except Brenda never cries over anything. She’s too brave for that, or so Alice always thought. “I guess… you’re just incredible at your job, and you’re so damn good to everyone. I’m sorry.”

“Oh!” Alice gasps. “Don’t be sorry. You haven’t done anything!” But when she pulls back, it’s clear Brenda is, in fact, upset.

Brenda sighs, heavily, like she’s letting the weight of the world rest on her shoulders and push the breath right out of her. “It shouldn’t have been a choice between us,” she says. “You got- you’ve had enough trouble. Keeping secrets is bad enough, and you can’t tell anyone what’s really going on inside, can you?”

Alice shakes her head. She’s afraid to speak, afraid to confirm what Brenda is hinting at, but for three years they’ve been friends and she seems to have figured it out well enough for herself.

“Come on.” Brenda offers her her arm. “I’ll walk you out. Sean coming to pick you up?”

They go slow through the back hall, ignoring the handful of guests who are lingering about, being where they oughtn’t. It isn’t Alice’s concern anymore. Brenda stands with her on the curb, watching the cars go by. “You’ll keep in touch, right? We should go shopping some time. Get tea. You know.”

“That sounds nice,” agrees Alice. There’s a jostling at her shoulder as someone pushes by, knocking her into an olive drab mailbox. Brenda glares on her behalf.

It’s Frances.

She mutters a quick ‘so sorry’ before continuing on, to the club, to her high and mighty life of politics. Alice doesn’t watch her go, but she watches Brenda watch for her, frown line her forehead only deepening. “She still… ‘causing you any grief?” asks Brenda, finally. “It was her, wasn’t it?”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Alice blurts, regretting the words as soon as they’re out. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t on purpose, but you can’t let anyone think-“

Brenda throws her hands up. “Hey! Hey, it’s okay, I won’t let anything slip. Secrets are safe and all that. Just wondered if I needed to slip her a little bit of something nasty in her cocktail next time.”

“No!” says Alice, but she feels the smile come on unbidden. “It’s fine. That was a long time ago.”

“Hmm,” says Brenda. She’s standing close, leaning in like she wants to ask more, wants to interrogate Alice further about past heartaches. The moment passes and she shakes her head, laughing it off and they’re fine again.

Alice can see Sean’s car rolling up, headlights shining as he idles behind someone else blocking the curb. “Empire Room,” she blurts out.

“What?”

“At the Palmer House. It’s so lovely, I’ve always wanted to work there, since the first time Sean took me- oh, you have no idea, it’s even more magical than this place. Carol-Lynne gave me a recommendation, and they were really pleased to hear I was… well, I said my husband wasn’t comfortable with me working as a bunny, and they understood. So, if you ever need to find me…” She smiles at Brenda, who grins back, her short frame straightening as she takes in the good news. “Don’t tell the others, okay?”

“Gotcha,” Brenda agrees. “Hey, congratulations. I hope you have fun.”

Sean pulls up, and Alice pulls Brenda into one last hug. She lets her friend go, and contemplates, as Sean drives them away, what exactly it means to trust someone, anyways.


End file.
